


I Remember that it Hurt

by keyflight790



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Possible Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15721785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/pseuds/keyflight790
Summary: I remember that it hurt. Looking at [him] hurt. - Stuck in Love





	I Remember that it Hurt

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wildfire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15695985) by [whiskyandwildflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskyandwildflowers/pseuds/whiskyandwildflowers). 



I remember that it hurt. Looking at him hurt.

Sometimes it was a dull ache, in the early drops of the morning, when the only glow in the room was from the misty waters in the great lake outside your window. When you would stir, and reach, and hope that you felt something, someone, laying next to you in the dark.  Your hand would grasp, would retract, would feel nothing. You felt nothing, except that dull ache in your stomach, in your chest.

Other times it was sharper.  When you caught glimpses of dark hair in the hallways.  When you heard the echo of his laugh across the Great Hall.  When you folded your socks and tucked them securely into your dresser.  Your mind would drift, and you’d wonder what it’d be like, to have that warm laugh around you, surround you, be for you.  Would it melt the ice that encapsulated your heart? Would it fill the void that always sat deep, low, hidden in the cave that is your soul?  

Then sometimes, the pain would be so great, so immeasurable that you couldn’t stand it.  When he’d look at you, arching his eyebrows from beneath thick black frames. When he'd nervously run his hands over that bloody scar.  When he’d suck on the end of his quill, thinking, drifting, dreaming. Was he dreaming of you?

_He wasn’t dreaming of you.  No one dreams of you._

And it’s not feeling sorry for yourself if it’s true, is it?  If the truth hurts, if the truth keeps you up at night as you stroke, thinking of him, thinking of his hands, of his mouth.  Of his hair curled into your fingertips, and his thighs pressed against yours and his lips pressed against yours and Merlin, if once, just once you could know what that felt like.

_You’ll never know what that feels like._

He doesn’t love you, doesn’t even like you.  And it’s not his fault. You haven’t exactly been the best person to him.  The facets you thought made you amazing are actually the things he hates the most.  He hates your righteous pure-blood status, hates your clever tongue, hates your perfect hair.  

Although sometimes, you see him looking at your hair, fingers curled upward as if he wants to touch, wants to run his own hands through it.  You want him to. More than anything you want him to.

But you’ve seen it.  You’ve seen the way he looks at her, with fiery hair and fiery grit and fiery lust.  That’s what he looks like when he’s in love. When he’s in love with her.

 _It will never be you_.

Sometimes the pain of that is so great that you wish it would swallow you whole, take you down into the depths of the lake and absorb you into the dark, wet earth.  Love shouldn't cause you pain, but it does. It always does.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for letting me get that out of my system. I own nothing. 
> 
> Inspired by Whisky and Wildflowers - Wildfire - thanks for the inspiration, and the continued support!
> 
> Written while listening to 5AM by Amber Run: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qge9mS3umFk
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/keyflight790)


End file.
